Waiting in Neverland
by DarklingShift
Summary: He watched her, year after year, grow older, grow a family. He watched her from her window as she slept, as she aged. He will have his day with her again, someday.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor do I own Peter Pan.**

**This story was inspired by "Growing Up" by GabbyAbby. **

He cried. For the first time in too many years, he cried for another person. He had the home of his dreams, he would never get old, he had the closest friends that anyone could wish for. He had been the happiest boy, with no worries at all, until he met _her_. She and her brothers, who had so laughed as they flew to his home. They who had slipped into Neverland, the only children other than himself who had come here with free will, the only children who had left to never come back.

He had wanted her to stay, to remain a child in his land, to have fun and play games with him forever. He had adored her smile, had accepted her as his mother, his one and only mother, who would take care of him and hold him.

As he hovered outside of her bedroom window, he watched her still figure as she breathed slowly and evenly, in and out. Her eyes were shut and her lashes curled against her cheeks, fluttering ever so often. He watched as her mother came in and blew out the candle, kissing her darling children on the cheek before coming to the window.

He pressed himself against the cold, damp wall as the woman peered outside, looking right and left before shutting the glass-paned windows with a snap. As she left the room, he once again gazed through the window, pressing himself against the glass to see _her_ inside. He stayed all night, staring through the glass, never moving. As soon as the first ray of sun shot from the horizon, however, he was gone.

He sat, huddled, against his Never tree, his light hair falling into his eyes. Slowly he blinked away the tears that had filled once again under his lashes. He could still feel her, her hugging him, her whispering a story in his ear. He could feel her as she gently sewed his shadow once again to his foot, as she touched his arm when she spoke. He could feel her lips against his as she gave him a thimble, and as he gave her one.

Tears were streaming down his face now, the young face of a child that would never age, never grow, always be how he was now. He loved her as not a mother, as not a friend, but something more. She had burrowed her way into his ever-beating heart, where she would remain.

Tinkerbelle had pulled at his hair and tugged at his arm, but he would not respond. She tried vainly to wake him from his trance, fluttering against his skin and over his cheeks. He brushed her away, shaking his head. Ate nothing, real or make-believe. He only sat there, staring, out at the curling smoke from the Indians, out at the mermaids that frolicked in the water, out to the open ocean that rolled and rippled under the touch of the wind.

He woke a year later, rising from his position on the ground. He rose and flew, straight out to sea, straight to where a window awaited him. He watched, invisible to any other eye, as the girl that resided in the room awakened and slipped out of bed. She had grown, becoming taller, older, more lovely. But she was growing.

He turned his head away, hiding the sharp stab of pain that he felt from her aging. She would never return to Neverland, not now, as she was growing up. He longed to rap the window, to hold her and bring her back. But she had made the choice. She would stay here, growing steadily older, leaving him behind. She, her brothers, and the Lost Boys. They would grow up. He would not. He turned, and with one last look, flew once again to sea.

Every year, he would return. He would watch her grow, he would see her turn from girl to woman as he himself would stay a boy. He watched her as another young man courted her, as she grew to love that boy, as she grew to have a family. A family. The one thing that he himself would never have. He watched as her thimbles went to this young man, each one stolen from her lips. He watched her grow, and he heard her whisper, "Come back someday. Come back." as she stared out into the open sky.

As her family grew, so did she. She whispered her children stories of him, of how she flew to Neverland, and saw the mermaids swim. She grew older, older by the day, until she was an adult, a respectable woman, a mother. He had despised mothers, but he could not despise her. After years and years she grew into a grandmother, an old lady, still beautiful in her age. He still watched through her window, gazing sadly at her wrinkled face, her white hair. He would always come back. Always.

She was laying on her deathbed, still and quiet, her face paler than ever. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing, deeply, calmly. She had left the window open, open for his return, one last time before she would leave forever. He settled gently into the room and walked slowly to her side, as quietly as ever, with his shadow trailing behind him. He reached out slowly to take her hand, ever so slowly, to feel her once more.

She opened her eyes and looked softly upon him, her ancient gaze boring into his youthful one.

"Peter." she said, smiling.

He smiled sadly back at her, brushing the wisps of hair from her face, holding her hand.

"You came back for me."

He looked up at her, a young boy, hoping.

"You could always come back with me, Wendy. Always."

She shook her head.

"No. I can't. I've grown up, Peter. I've grown up, too old, to big to fly."

Peter stared into her eyes, his blue-green eyes piercing.

"Yes you can. You can fly, you can. You will. You will come."

Wendy smiled at his words, grasping his hand slightly tighter. She wanted to fly, ever so badly, to see the mermaids, to run in the tall grass, to go to Neverland once more.

"I will try."

He bent down to give her one last thimble, one last touch before she left. Her lips were still smooth, still as soft as the first time they shared a thimble. She smiled under his lips as he kissed her, remembering her first kiss with him so many years ago. Perhaps she would fly, someday.

Her eyes closed, resting peacefully as her body relaxed. She was leaving. He knew it, he knew that this day would come. He smiled sadly, letting a small, pearl-like tear gently drop down his cheek. He leaned toward her, and whispered in her ear.

"Remember, Wendy, and never forget. Second star to the right, and straight on till morning. I'll be waiting. Waiting in Neverland."


End file.
